


Nothing To Say To You

by sillyvizion



Category: Feral (Wildworks Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Blood Kobolds (Feral), Blood Tundra (Feral), Gen, Help Luka they need a hug, Implied Character Death, Implied Child Death, Irregular Passage of Time, They/them pronouns for Luka, This is not happy this is painful!! Help me, Timeloops, character introspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:15:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24675199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sillyvizion/pseuds/sillyvizion
Summary: "What remains, cannot be again. The Tundra takes everything back, in the end."
Comments: 8
Kudos: 30





	Nothing To Say To You

**Author's Note:**

> _"I hope I can chill and stay the same  
>  Stop the bleed inside and feel again  
> Cut the chain of lies you've been feeding my veins  
> I've got nothing to say to you"_  
> \- Saeed, Infected Mushroom  
> WELLLLLL this is something alright!! ive been itching to write feral fic for a bit but the last quest REALLY kicked that off for me  
> something is definitely up in the blood tundra and i think luka gets a lot of flack. i personally think theyre just as much a victim of it as any.
> 
> this fic incorporates aspect of popular and wonderful theories from Ez and Ishmael, as well as my own theories and just general fantastical prose conjecture.  
> this fic is not intended to be a definite theory on Feral or the BT, but rather is intended for entertainment purposes and to explore the grief i think Luka has.  
> i wanted it to be longer, but didnt want to drag it out needlessly. forgive me!
> 
> enjoy!  
> Seraph ❤

“…”

Nothing, was all they could say, at a time like this. What could you expect them to say? Even with the imploring eyes of their passing friend looking up at them, expecting some kind of meaningful response, their mouth felt dry and their blood ran cold.

Luka had felt this chilling sensation up their spine for about as long as they had been in the Tundra. It felt relentless, never-ending, some days. The wind persistently felt as though ice, even when brushing across their thick, white fur. Their core felt as frigid as the icy peaks, and those words cut through their skull every hour of every day.

_“What remains, cannot be again.”_

What was an hour, anyway? What was a day, a week, even? It had felt as though simultaneously countless years, and no time at all, had passed. Sure, the children had their bedtime, at a time which Luka felt was appropriate. But it was all conjecture. There was no calendar to mark, no sundial to turn to. A seeming normality they were perpetuating, for the children.

The children.

The _children_ were the most haunting, the most painful part. They would never listen to Luka’s warnings. They would always run off, towards the blizzard, towards the harbour. Towards the-… And every time they would return, Luka could see it. Their fur, once upon a time a deep, warm red, was turning white before their eyes. Ever so slightly, just the slightest dusting of their pelts. But Luka noticed. Luka always noticed. Some of the children, like Vann, weren’t quite as pale. But others, like Ende, were fading away faster than Luka could blink.

And then Wolfe and his stupid toboggans… Luka had warned him enough times - don’t stray too far from the village. But he just had to go and lead everyone right outside of it. Luka didn’t understand how their warnings couldn’t get across, when everyone had faced the consequences countless times now.

Then again, Luka couldn’t blame them. Their memory wasn’t the best, either. Every time they had greeted their passing friend, they had the strangest sense of déjá vu. As if they had crossed paths before. But that didn’t make much sense, did it? Frankly, Luka didn’t have much of an idea how one could ‘pass through’ the village, when they themselves couldn’t even _leave._

But, that was neither here nor there. Point was, Wolfe and the others’ toboggans broke, just like Luka knew they would. And they got injured, just like Luka knew they would. And once again, their fur paled like ash.  
Just like Luka knew it would.

And, now…

The ghost. The… spirit. That lurid green flame, which Luka had only seen on the rarest occasion, had made itself known to not one… not two, but three of the children. It had brushed against Phemer’s fur, even. Possibly providing them comfort, Luka couldn’t be sure. They didn’t want to think the worst, as that same spirit had saved Ende from the harsh winds of the blizzard. They didn’t even want to imagine how pale Ende would be had it not done so. Not that Ende knew any of that, of course. But Luka did.

And so they found themselves in a spot they often did, against their better judgement. The one and only part of the Tundra that felt like any time passed. It came with it’s caveats, though. As Luka stepped one foot forward onto the lush, emerald grass, they could feel a part of themselves chip away and scatter into dust. But it was of little consequence, anymore. They had lost enough, and what little was left was worth nothing in the face of some answers, guidance, _anything._

They fell to their knees, in front of the tombstone - had there always been this white dust here? - and stared at the epitaph carved into the surface. They had committed it to memory. It cut through their skull every day of every month. But it hadn’t gotten any easier, any less damning. 

They sighed, deeply, the force of it rattling through their chest the same way the blizzard rattled their bones. Their body shook - tremored, really - as they found their face in their hands, found tears streaming down their face and matting their fur as they sobbed. Wailed. Screamed. Sobbed loud enough to shatter resolve, to wound hearts and to crack their own body into a million pieces. Wept for the life that had been ripped from them, from the village. Cried for the children, for their fur that was becoming as white as the Tundra itself. As white as Luka. As white as crushed up bones. 

They sobbed for as long as those words cut through their skull, like they did every month of every year.

_“The Tundra takes everything back, in the end.”_  
.


End file.
